The Dark Game
by ZombieKillerLevi
Summary: In the city of London, a villain waits in the dark, playing nothing but games with its hero. It comes to ripping apart the hero's reputation, destroying the life of his friends, and making the hero break his one and only rule. The villain's name..Moriarty
1. Chapter 1

***shrug* What? There's enough of this on Tumblr...but nothing yet in fic form. Well, now there is. Started this WAAAY back in November, but wasn't really sure how to replace some of the character or do some scenes. However, after Reichenbach...I am ready :D**

**Note: I do not own Batman. I do not own Sherlock. They belong to their respective owners.**

**So, without further ado...here it is!**

The Bank of South London was in chaos, as six masked men toting guns walked in, shoving everyone to the ground and shoving grenades in their hands.

"Anyone who moves gets a bullet to the head!" They shouted, pushing more people to the ground. The six continued inwards, three of them staying behind to keep an eye on the hostages. The other three walked through the bank hall, towards the vault.

"Blue, get the alarm." The tallest barked. 'Blue' left down a different path, and the other started to get out equipment. "Nil, how much time?" Nil looked over to the one shouting orders in slight annoyance.

"Calm yourself. This vault door has a 10,000 volt charge running through it, so give me five minutes to get through." Nil said, setting to work.

Back in the lobby, the other three thugs were forced to get down by the surprise attack of the bank manager, who happened to be wielding a six gauge shotgun.

"You really must be stupid, aren't you!" He shot off another round, trapping two of the three thugs being a counter. The third stood up to shoot back, but was dead before he hit the ground. "Do you have any idea who you're stealing from?" He shouted again.

"Brooks, how many rounds does he have left?" One of the men hissed. Brooks put up three fingers and they waited. Sure enough, the manager shot two more rounds before the thug jumped up to shoot. However, he was hit. Brooks chose that moment to stand and injure the manager.

"I thought you said there was only two shots!" The injured thug shouted. A second later, there was a bullet in his brain.

Blue came back to the vault to find Nil splayed on the floor against the opposite wall.

"Del, what happened?" Del only shrugged.

"He said there was 10,000 volts going through the door. Guess he wasn't careful enough. Now pick up a bag and get goin'!" He pulled the safe door wide open with a grunt, grabbing a duffel bag and shoving stacks of money into it. Blue followed close behind, fidgety.

"So who do you think this 'Moriarty' guy is, anyway?" Blue asked, starting up conversation. "He's got to have some real balls to rob a mob bank." Del snorted.

"Yeah, balls or no brain. Once the Falcone guys get their hands on him, he's as good as dead." Del retorted. "Now hurry up!" The two started to rush more, and at that moment Brooks poked his head in.

"You guys almost done?" Del and Blue only walked out of there, holding up the bags.

"What happened to them?" Blue asked as they went through the lobby.

"Incident with the manager." Brooks answered. "Nothing that was too much trouble." At that moment, there was a gunshot and Blue fell to the ground. The manager was instantly hit in the head with the butt of Brooks' shotgun.

"Bastard. Brooks, you coming or what?" He fidgeted with his gun.

"You remember the orders, right?" Brooks asked, picking up the manager's pistol.

"You mean the one to kill off everyone else to get a bigger share?" Del responded, pointing his gun at the other man. "Yeah." Brooks grinned maliciously under his mask.

"Just checking." At that moment, a loud crash resounded within the building, and a schoolbus went straight for Del, running him over. Not so soon after it stopped, another man stepped out with an AK-47.

"Got everything?" He asked, grabbing some of the black bags.

"Great timing again, Seb." Brooks said, throwing his own bags onto the bus. As they were about to jump back inside, the bank manager interrupted once again.

"He's gonna kill you too." Brooks stopped in his tracks, turning to face the man. "Hiring thugs off the street - just to kill them off in some game." He spat. "You're marked for death." Brooks kneeled down to slap him.

"I'll admit it's all a game to me - But give me some credit." Brooks' voice had changed drastically from low Southern London to a higher pitched Irish accent. "It's surprisingly hard to find anyone stupid enough to help rob a Falcone bank." He finished, slipping out of his face mask. "Now be a good boy and don't drop this." He shoved a grenade into the man's mouth, the pin attached to a string which was then tied to the back of the bus. "Let's go, Sebby!"

The bus trailed out of the bank and back onto the road, fitting in line with the rest of the schoolbuses on the road. The pin slipped out of its' place and the manager froze. However, there was a hissing, and a smoke started pouring out of the container. Sirens were quickly approaching, but by the time the police pulled into the wreckage, the criminal mastermind was long gone, along with the entirety of the money in the bank.

* * *

><p><strong>Continue:<strong>

**Y/N?**

**Please review, and stay awesome!**

**ZKL**


	2. Chapter 2

**Okay...So I managed to write a second chapter. Doesn't mean I didn't want to strangle myself with some of the dialogue. It's difficult to convert (for me, anyways) Batman-speak to Sherlock-speak like that. You gotta give me some credit - I'm trying here. I have to thank Simpa007 and that perfume for reviewing last chapter - and I hope you guys enjoy this one ^^**

**Note: I do not own Batman. I do not own Sherlock. They belong to their respective owners.**

* * *

><p>The office of Scotland Yard was vacant except for several officers of the Major Crimes division. The voice of the Commissioner echoed throughout the room, through the television.<p>

_"Sir, you said you were going to clean up the city when you got on board. The question is, when are you going to start?"_ This earned a snort from one of the room's occupants as she watched the Commissioner scramble, at a loss for words.

_"Well-"_

_"Like this so-called Batman character - some say he's doing good, that criminals are running scared...I say no. What kind of hero needs to hide behind a mask? You don't let vigilantes run around breaking the law...yet, we still hear rumors that instead of trying to catch him, the police are letting him do their dirty work."_

_"I've been told that the Major Crimes unit are close to making an_ arrest."This earned a bark of laughter from the woman.

"Hey Anderson! You hear that? Commissioner says we're closing in on the Batman!" She stood up and went over to the coffee machine.

"The investigation is ongoing." Anderson protested, throwing a crumpled-up wad of paper at a board with the images of possible suspects for Batman - i.e. President Lincoln, Bigfoot, and Elvis.

Detective Inspector Lestrade stood on the roof of the Yard, looking at the sky with searchlight. The officer came out, holding out a cup of coffee for him.

"Not seeing your wife tonight, sir?" She asked as he took it.

"I thought you had your mother to look after, Sally." He countered, taking a sip. She shrugged, looking back down at her own drink.

"Back in the hospital." She muttered. Lestrade winced.

"Sorry..." Sally shrugged.

"At least she's got someone to look after her around the clock..." Sally muttered before looking back at the sky, where the bat-signal hung in the cloud. "The creep hasn't showed?" She asked, looking at him with a raised eyebrow. He pushed himself off the ledge he was leaning on and shook his head.

"Often doesn't." He shrugged, taking a sip of his coffee. "But I like to remind people that he's there, he's real." Sally glanced back up to the bat signal.

"Why wouldn't he come?" She asked with furrowed brows. Lestrade shrugged, turning to the stairs down.

"Hopefully...because he's busy.

**~SH/DK**

The empty parking lot was suddenly occupied as several vans pulled into the vicinity. The people inside all started piling out, dragging out a kid with a crazed look in his eyes and general mob thugs. All with mini-uzis and body armor. One of the vans rattled, containing malicious Rottweilers. A big man in a nice suit (nothing as good as Westwood) stepped out of the van last, pissed look on his face.

"Look!" He shouted in a heavy Russian accent. "Look at what your drugs did to my customers!" He pulled up one the kid, who started babbling complete nonsense.

"I warned you the new compound would take you places." A new man said, stepping out with a burlap sack over his head. "I never said they'd be places you'd want to go." He finished calmly.

"I take buisness in repeat customers." The Russian guy, Chechen, said. "Instead, it's scaring the shit out of them and driving them away." He shouted, voice reverberating throughout the lot.

"Then buy from someone else." The new man, the Scarecrow said, waving a hand. "Of course, if Batman left anyone to buy from." He challenged. Suddenly a bodyguard interrupted them, face ghost white.

"He's here!" The tension in the room rose, and everyone glanced to the shadows, expecting the masked vigilante to appear. Chechen turned to one of the van and threw open the doors, letting the dogs inside come out, growling furiously. Suddenly one of the thugs disappeared, into the darkness. Then, on one of the ledges, the figure of Batman appeared, crouching.

"C'mon!" Chechen challenged, the dogs still growling. However, a second Batman appeared from a corner and took out a another thug, which a third Batman mimicked.

"It's not him!" The Scarecrow shouted, hiding behind a van as the Batman on the ledge started shooting with a shotgun.

"How would you know?" Chechen shouted back, bewildered.

"We're old friends." The Scarecrow replied dryly. Suddenly, there was a huge crash and a huge vehicle swerved into the lot - recognized as the Batmobile, Batman's preferred car. It stayed where it was, loitering inbetween the chaos, before it took out its cannons and blew up the cars inside. The thugs started running, which prompted a pseudo-Batman to line up his shotgun on a running bodyguard.

There was a screech of tortured steel as a black hand bent the barrel of the shotgun upwards. The pseudo-Batman gawked in awe as he stared into the face of the real Batman before the dogs started running towards them. As the dogs approached, Chechen ran off to his SUV, leaving Batman to the dogs, of which started to bite and cling on to him as he tried getting to the men. Batman continued to have trouble with the hounds...until the Scarecrow ran into him and tried to run him over, making him slam into the windshield and slide off.

Batman rose, aching, as the van with the Scarecrow drove down the ramps. He stumbled over to the ledge of the corkscrew ramp, waiting for something...before jumping. Ten stories down, before landing, oh-so-gracefully with his cape as a parachute, on the Scarecrow's van.

Ten minutes later, Chechen's unconscious men and the fake Batmans sat, lined up and tied up against the wall. Batman walked over, dumping a bound Scarecrow next to the fake Batmans. He slipped off one of the pseudo-Batmans' mask.

"We're trying to help you!" The unmasked Batman shouted, angry.

"I don't need help." Batman replied curtly.

"Not my diagnosis." The Scarecrow muttered, earning a kick from Batman.

"Don't let me find you out here again." Batman growled before stalking off to the Batmobile.

"You need us! There's only one of you - it's WAR out there!" Batman ignored another fake Batman, instead jumping into the Batmobile. The fake Batman continued. "What gives you the right? What's the difference between you and me?" He shouted.

"I'm not wearing hockey pads." Batman threw back gruffly. Two seconds later, the Batmobile roared past as sirens started to come within earshot.

**~SH/DK**

Lestrade stood in front of the vault, police officers and forensics swarming around him, in and out. Sergeant Sally Donovan walked up to him, a few photos in her hand.

"We got a profile." She said, passing the grainy pictures of the man who broke in to Lestrade. He skimmed through them before passing them back to Sally.

"Put these out. Cross-reference with everything we've got." Lestrade approached a forensic photographer taking pictures of a dead thug's body. A familiar figure suddenly stepped out from the shadows, making Lestrade look to Sally. She rolled her eyes, turning to the forensic team outside the vault.

"Give us a minute here, people!" She shouted, clearing the room. Eventually, they all left, leaving just Lestrade and Batman.

"This guy?" Batman muttered, taking a look at the photos in Lestrade's hands, at the man in the bus. "And the others?" Lestrade shrugged, shaking his head.

"Hired thugs. Not much to look at." Batman returned the photos and knelt near a small bundle of cash near the thug's body. "Some of the marked bills I gave you." He commented, looking up at the Detective Inspector. Lestrade nodded.

"My men have been making drug buys with them for weeks. This bank was another drop for the mob. This makes five - we've found the bulk of their dirty cash."

"Time to move in." Batman said, standing back up. Lestrade raised an eyebrow.

"What about this guy?" He asked, waving the photos.

"He's not our problem right now. We got the mob right where we want them - he can wait."

"We'll have to hit them all simultaneously. SWAT teams, backup, everything." Lestrade said as Batman walked to the wall of the vault. "When the new DA hears about this, he'll want in." He warned. Batman turned to Lestrade.

"Can he be trusted?" Batman asked. Lestrade snorted, shaking his head.

"It'll be hard to keep him out." The DI bagged the marked cash near the body. "I hear he's as stubborn as you." He turned around, only to be met with silence, for he was alone in the room.

**~SH/DK**

Mrs Hudson walked down the halls of the penthouse apartment from the kitchen. She held a tray of breakfast for one Sherlock Holmes, who was supposed to be asleep. But of course, as she opened the door to his room, she was greeted by an empty, unused bed. Sighing in annoyance, Mrs Hudson left, instead wrapping up the breakfast, putting on a coat and driving herself to an old, familiar apartment of 221b Baker Street. She entered, and found what she expected - Sherlock crouching over the kitchen table, deep in the middle of an attempt to stitch himself up.

"Sherlock, you're gonna hurt yourself if you keep trying like that." Mrs Hudson sighed, getting the attention of the younger man. She tutted when she saw the wounds up close. "One would think you'd have learned to stitch yourself up by now." She sighed, going through the motions with ease.

"Irrelevant, Mrs Hudson, for I do actually learn from my mistakes." Sherlock drawled, wincing as the needle went through.

"Well, you'll need to learn a bit quicker." She said, patting his shoulder before returning to work.

"I just need lighter armor. I need to be faster." He muttered, jotting down a quick note with his uninjured arm.

"I'm sure Molly wouldn't mind helping with that." Mrs Hudson assured, taking a closer look at the scratches. "Why would you have gotten attacked by a bear on your night out?" She asked, finishing up the stitches.

"Dogs, Mrs Hudson, they were dogs." He took a glance at her amused look. "Big dogs - but that's not the point. There were more copycats last night. With guns." He informed.

"Hire them. Take a few days off and sleep for once." She said, patting his shoulder, done with the stitches. "Tea?" She asked, going to the stove.

"Nonsense - the fights are boring enough as it is." Sherlock said, rolling his eyes at his old friend. "Besides...this wasn't exactly what I had in mind when I said I wanted to inspire people." He added, voice going quiet for a moment.

"Sherlock, things are getting better. The new District Attorney alone..." Sherlock tapped the screen of one of many monitors on the table.

"Trust me, I know. I've been keeping a close eye on him. Don't want him to turn into the next new evil bastard at the last minute." He said, staring at the monitor. "I need to know I can trust him." He continued to flick through the pictures. One in particular caught Mrs Hudson's eye.

"Are you sure it's just him you're interested in, or is it his social circles?" Sherlock looked at the picture, emotionless.

"Who John spends his time with is his buisness." He replied, taking down the picture.

"Are you sure?" She teased. "Because I seem to recall his first date with that surgeon at the circus." Sherlock pouted.

"That was for a case. The Chinese mafia had their base there." He defended, moving his arms slightly to let her put a cup of tea down next to him. She looked at the stitched-up shoulder again, moving her eyes to the other scars adjacent to it. It didn't go unnoticed.

"Sherlock..." She started, before getting cut off by him.

"'Know your limits'. I know. You and John have reminded me multiple times." He said. "But Batman can't have limits. And I can't afford to know my own." Mrs Hudson sighed, taking a nearby seat.

"And what happens the day you find out?" She asked. Sherlock smirked.

"People always love it when I'm wrong. And you get to say 'I told you so'." Mrs Hudson's face remained somber.

"Sherlock...on that day, even I won't want to." She reconsidered. "Probably."

* * *

><p><strong>Okay. If you managed not to get driven away by this chapter...or even if you did...please review! I'm still honing my skills, so go ahead and tell me where I had issues, what I did well, or just drop a review just to say hi. I'd really appreciate it no matter what, reviews feed my drive to write, so please give me some feedback! :)<strong>

**On a side note...Everyone, stay amazing, will you?**

**-ZKL**


End file.
